The Art of Cartography
by totallymindless
Summary: In 1971, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry gained four students who would become unlikely friends and embark upon a journey that would change their lives. Follow Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs as they map their way through Hogwarts and beyond and learn the consequences of every decision.
1. Waning Gibbous

**Waning Gibbous**

 _March 3, 1971_

Pain ached throughout Remus Lupin's small almost eleven-year-old frame as sleep drifted away from him and life was breathed into him once again with the rising of the sun. His eyes blinked at the brightness as the world came into groggy focus. As always, sitting in the chair nearest his bed sat his mother, Hope Lupin. Her eyes were red-rimmed with either loss of sleep or tears, he was never sure which, her slumped shoulders covered in a loose-knitted cardigan, despite the warmth in the room, her hands busy working across the easel in front of her as if their occupation with the charcoal and paper could keep her worries at bay. Remus smiled and did not stir. These moments, when his body was aching so fiercely from the activities of the night prior, and her heart was so openly displayed in her face were his favorite moments. He felt it was the only time they were ever truly honest with each other. It wouldn't be long until she noticed the change in his breathing and she'd store away all her concerns into a little place in the rear of her mind. Remus contented himself with watching her work and worry and let his own pains and worries occupy his own mind until warm tears pooled at the edges of his eyes.

It happened in an instant. She changed from frantic and worried to warm and caring, Remus thought even the redness of her eyes faded. "Good morning, sweetheart," her voice smiled at him as her charcoal blackened fingers smoothed his sandy brown fringe from his forehead, "it was a bit of a rough one, I'm afraid." Remus nodded and tried to push back his tears. "Don't you do that, mister," his mother chided. "You have every right to those tears, don't deny yourself the humanity of them." Obeying, Remus let the tears fall and allowed her to press her forehead against his and smooth them away. Once he had cried himself out, she kissed his forehead. "How 'bout some tea?"

Like an apparition his father appeared at the door with a tray overfilled with tea and biscuits. Remus sometimes wondered if his mother wasn't the magical one of his parents, as she only ever had to think of something and it would happen. His father was slightly older than his mother, or perhaps he just aged quicker, Remus wasn't sure. "And plenty of biscuits, of course," the roughened voice chimed in as his father stepped into the room.

Remus believed himself to be built quite like his father, albeit a smaller package because of his age. Lyall Lupin was tall and lanky, as if his arms and legs were a bit longer than his body called for, his hair sandy and striped with grey and hang shaggily about his ears. His eyes were wrinkled around the edges with knowledge and worry in the same way Remus' were- years before their time.

"So, how's the damage?" Remus asked as he tried to rise up from the pillow. He swallowed back the pain as white-hot licks of pain flamed up his abdomen. A gasp escaped his lips and his mother was there in a moment, helping him hold steady. Her trembling could be felt despite his own shaking and guilt rose up in him greater than the agony of his wound. His self-loathing was immense. He should have died rather than drag his own mother through this hell every month.

His father laughed, not unkindly. It was his way of breaking the spell of his mother's worry and Remus' own self-hate and it worked like a charm. "Well, apparently, as bad as it looks. Going back your reaction there." A chuckle was pulled from Remus' chest and his mother sighed her fear away returning to her calm state.

"Funny," Remus groaned, rolling his eyes. He let the blankets fall around his waist to reveal the crisscrossing wound that seemed to take up his entire middle. "Girls dig scars, right?" he asked.

His mother smiled. "That they do, love."

"Don't worry," his father said, placing the tea tray upon the desk near Remus' bed. "It'll scar up nicely, but the pain should die out by this evening." Remus was relieved. He had long since passed the time where he was concerned over his appearance, but knowing the pain would ebb so quickly was heartening. Usually cuts as deep as this took longer than a day to recover.

Their conversation turned to lighter things after that, normal family discussions over what was to be had for dinner, if they should make a trip to the seaside over the weekend, and the like. Remus sipped at his tea until he was too tired to continue with the conversation and faded into sleep.

Later that evening Remus sat upon the living room floor with dozens of books spread out in front of him, each depicting scenes dark creatures, apparitions, and ghouls. A quick rap at the door of the residence brought Remus' attention from the pages to the reality and Lyall Lupin smiled at him. "They do the same to me, my boy," he laughed as he rose from the couch to answer the door.

An edge of uncertainty crept into the room and Remus found his breath caught in his chest. Since a very young age visitors were greeted with a distrust, which only increased with sunset within Remus' world. He watched carefully as his father padded across the room to the door, his wand slipping from his sleeve for easy retrieval if the need arose. Hope Lupin fell in place, quickly behind her husband. She easily slid a shotgun off the rack by the front door, hiding it amongst the folds of her skirt. The Lupin family lived far out from the nearest town and many precautions were in place to keep anyone from just wondering up to their home and it was obvious by the elder Lupin's response to arm themselves that no one was expected.

Torn between curiosity and fear Remus sat up straighter in an attempt to see over the sofa blocking his view of the doorway. His father pulled the door open and his face froze in shock, "Pro-professor?" he shuttered out.

Remus stood and peered around his father he saw a very tall man with a long white beard that hung passed his waist. Remus instantly knew the man was a wizard, though he had rarely been exposed to any beyond his father. He wore a crushed velvet suit, in deep plum that was almost matched the night sky, heeled boots and half-moon spectacles.

As the usual refusals to anyone wishing to enter the Lupin home were given, Remus found himself staring in wonder at the professor, the aura about him exhaling magic into the air. The rest of the words lost on the way to Remus' ears, however as he watched, it appeared the professor was winning what had always been a losing fight with his parents. It wasn't too long before the shocked and shuttering refusals sputtered out, stunned acquaintance took its place and the two Lupin's welcomed the professor into their home.

The professor was unfazed by the entire situation and smiled brightly at Remus. "You must be Remus?" even his voice felt magical to Remus as the words pierced through his ponderings about the man at their door.

"Yeah—Yes, I am," Remus answered, attaching "sir" as an afterthought as his eyes moved down to his feet in shyness.

The professor grinned and stretched out his hand in greeting. "I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts," he announced. Remus stared at the offered hand in silence. He wanted to—touch him? Did he not know what he was? "I promise it won't bite," the professor laughed.

Remus lifted his gaze from the aged fingers outstretched to him and up into the wizened face, his honey-brown eyes staring helplessly into the bright blue pools behind the half-moon frames. Professor Dumbledore smiled warmly. Slowly, Remus slipped his hand into the professor's and accepted a hardy shake.

"Ah ha!" the professor exclaimed, turning about the room. "Anyone up for a game of Gobstones?" He asked, pulling a bag of marbles from the pocket of his coat.

The Lupins collectively stared at him in awe. "Gobstones?" Lyall asked.

"But, of course," Dumbledore responded. "I have a great many things to discuss with you this evening, but I am afraid part of the discussion requires a dear friend of mine, who is never on time. And, personally, beyond ten-pin bowling, I can't think of a better way to pass the time, than with a round of Gobstones." At that, he magicked away Remus' books with a wave of his hand and sat cross-legged in front of the fireplace, motioning for Remus to follow.

Hope Lupin was the first to recover, "Well then, I suppose I will fetch us some tea and crumpets."

Eyes wide, Remus sat across from the headmaster and gave him a small smile. Lyall watched his heart, for the first time in a very long time beginning to fill with hope.

 _End note: I've found this tale nagging at the back of my mind for several months now and have decided to attempt to scratch it down. I'm the only one doing the editing, which mostly occurs in the wee hours of the morning when I get home from work, so feel free to point out any errors and I'll will edit them as quickly as time allows. The story arc I have mapped out is to cover the entire Marauder Era, but make no promises. As today is Mr. Lupin's birthday, I decided to share his opening chapter first._


	2. Decisions

**The Art of Cartography**

Decisions

April 23, 1971

Peter Pettigrew sat at the edge of his seat his hand tracing the red lines drawn on the map spread out across his desk, imagining the roads and tracks he would be traveling tomorrow with excitement. All around him— posted on every wall— were maps, each with their own red lines of paths traveled. Layered upon the maps were flyers, set lists, posters of bands and concert tickets all marking the places he'd traveled the people he had seen. Atop those were photographs of Peter and his mum smiling and waving, dancing with one person or another. Relics of his memories pasted like wallpaper surrounded him.

A loud—BANG! drew Peter's attention away from his thoughts and he jumped, straining his ears to hear what was happening outside his bedroom door.

"Abigail! You can't keep dragging him around to the far reaches of the Earth! He needs an education. A _sound_ education!" Peter's gran screeched. He could picture her in her apron pointing a wooden spoon at his mum, her graying curls escaping their bun.

"Mum, he is my son. I will do what I damned well please when it comes to his upbringing!" his mother shouted back. "And he is getting an education! In experiences!"

Another loud bang sounded and Peter flinched. He was fairly certain that bang was his gran slamming the tea kettle on the stove. "In experiences?" she countered, voice cracking with rage. "Experiences in what? Because I can guarantee he'll never land a career just because he experienced America by attending a drunken hippie festival!"

Peter's mum gave out a wail of frustration, "Woodstock was not just some drunken party, mum!"

"Oh, bloody hell it wasn't," was his gran's retort.

"Mum, it's my job! This is what I do!" his mum shouted in defense. "I'm sorry that my career choice gives you so little pride, but guess what? It keeps a roof over your head!"

The ire in his gran's voice rose even further and Peter shied back away from the wall. "You don't have to drag him with you!"

"Pete is my son! What do you expect me to do? Leave him?" she sounded appalled at the idea. Frankly, Peter did too. He loved going with his mum, even if his marks suffered because of it.

"He deserves a chance at leading a normal life!"

"Normal?" Peter heard a slap against the wall and he was sure his mum had thrown something across the room. "So that's what this is about! It has nothing to do with me pulling him from school for this trip. It's to do with September and Hogwarts!" Peter paled, knowing that his life was about to become a lot more complicated. "Liked I told you when we received the letter this morning: it'll be Pete's decision!"

"How can you be tempted to send him there after the way you were treated?" his gran questioned darkly.

A growl escaped Abigail's lips and Peter heard her at his door, "Mum, how can you be so stupid?" With that the argument ended.

Peter dove away from his desk and toward his bed, landing amongst the pillows and quickly closing his eyes before his mum opened the door. The door clicked open and closed and Peter heard his mother shuffling about the room before he felt her climb into the bed beside him.

"Pete," she spoke softly, smoothing his hair. "Don't pretend you didn't hear the whole blasted thing. I'm sure the Endsleys at the end of the street heard." Peter chuckled and rolled over, blinking up at her with watery blue eyes. "I'm sorry," she added.

"I got a letter from Hogwarts?" Peter questioned and his mother smiled. Peter often found himself in his mum's face, although she was much prettier. They had the same round cheeks, dotted with freckles and the same small blue eyes.

Abigail nodded. "I wasn't going to tell you until after your birthday. That way you wouldn't have to worry about making a decision while we are gone and you can just enjoy yourself."

"Gran doesn't want me to go?" his voice sounded small even to his own ears. He realized suddenly that he wanted to cry. Hogwarts would mean no more trips with his mum. No more maps. No more red lines. Hogwarts meant he'd be gone the majority of the year. Away from his mum. Away from everything he'd ever known.

"It's not that, sweets," she answered. Peter sat up in the bed and they bother leaned against the headboard, his mum draping an arm about his shoulders. "Your gran just wants to you have an easier go at life than I did." Shrugging, she smoothed down Peter's hair again. "It was hard for me to find a career as a witch. I didn't have the right—connections." Smiling at Peter, she kissed his head. "But you will, Pete. You won't be wholly inexperienced in the magical way of life like I was. You will do great there—if that's what you want."

Peter shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. He was immediately torn. Living in the magical world had always been his dream, but his gran being non-magic had prevented that. Peter only ever experienced glimpses of the magical way of life, when his mum's music magazine covered a wizarding band or they needed supplies from Diagon Alley. But the last thing he wanted was to not be with his mum. She was his best friend. His only friend. "I want to stay with you."

His mum laughed and kissed his head again. "Pete, either way. Come September you have to go to secondary school. _Faithfully._ " She tugged at her own hair and a sadness crossed her face. "Your gran is right about you needing an education." As Peter start to protest, Abigail cut him off. "A _real_ one. So, next year, no more skipping class because of my work. You'll either stay here with gran and go to school locally, or Hogwarts. Or—if you want to attend a Muggle public school, we can find one."

Tears started to spill down Peter's round cheeks and his mum hugged him tightly. "But—it—it isn't fair," he wailed.

"Peter," his mum cooed. "I will send you stories and photographs from every place I travel during the school year. And you can map out and plan a trip for every break. We will spend Christmas in Japan, if you like."

Peter attempted to stop crying, gazing at his mum with hopeful eyes. "Promise?"

"I promise," she swore. "So, now all you have to decide is whether you want to be a Muggle like gran and go to—I dunno, Smelting's, or something." Peter wrinkled his nose, remembering the bright orange knickerbockers the Smelting boys wore from a trip to South East England. "Or a wizard and attend Hogwarts like I did."

With an unsure nod, Peter hugged his mum. He didn't want things to change. He didn't want to leave home or his life, but he put on a brave face. "We'll be in London for a week. If I choose to be a wizard, can we go to Diagon Alley and get my things before we come home?"

"Of course, kid," his mum agreed. Then shrugging, she added, "Or a boater and a Smelting stick."

Peter laughed.

April 30, 1971

Attending the Camden Art Festival was not exactly how any young boy pictured spending his eleventh birthday. Peter Pettigrew found himself as an exception to that statement. Peter traipsed around after his mum from concert to concert ever since he could remember. In fact, his gran had a photograph of him slung on his mum's hip at the Lotus House in 1963 with the Kinks on the mantel. This festival, Peter had to admit his mum was quite right about: It was the highlight of his life thus far.

Peter stood with his mum outside of the Roadhouse, with hundreds of other waiting for the doors to open for the night's performance. His mind kept leaving him and trailing back to the conversation he had had with his mum a week ago and the argument between his mum and gran. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to go to Hogwarts. He wanted to be a wizard. He loved the magical world. But, Hogwarts meant going away. And living as a Muggle meant staying home and Peter knew his mum wouldn't hold true to her promise to make him attend school faithfully.

The sun had begun setting about half an hour earlier and Peter's mum reached down to smooth his thin, uncombed hair behind his ears, checking to see if the chill in the air was effecting him. "Mum, you already put a warming charm on me," he grumbled, despite enjoying the motherly attention.

Abigail Pettigrew giggled at her son, "Alright, Pete. Let's get a move on then. Tonight's the big event!" Grabbing his pudgy hand in hers, she tugged him toward the Roundhouse doors. Peter hurried alongside her, trying to hold his own in the masses of people twice his age filing into the entrance.

At little while later, lights flashed and dimmed as Deep Purple came out on the stage. The band began to play and Peter felt his heart stop in his chest. The opening song was Yodel and Peter's mother placed her face close to his, "They're opening with my favorite!" Peter laughed and rolled his eyes. It wasn't a long song and the excitement of the crowd thickened as the tune changed to heavy guitars and Peter closed his eyes as the sound of the organ joined in and the guitar began to fade. A chill ran through his spine and everything else faded away.

"Mum!" Peter screamed as Ian Gillan roared out the opening lines to Speed King. His mum's grinning face turned to him. "This is the best birthday ever!" Abigail rubbed his hair and her eyes alight.

Peter sang along with the crowd throughout Strange Kind of Woman, before his favorite song began. The opening of Child in Time made his heart stop again and he felt himself transported to another world. Peter felt the magic in his fingertips and spark through his hair and he felt suddenly braver than he ever had. He could do it. Change would be okay. "Mum," he called again and his mum smiled down at him, "I want to be wizard. I want to go to Hogwarts."


	3. Attention

**The Art of Cartography**

Attention

June 22, 1971

Twinkling lights of fairies dancing above the heads of dozens of men and women swarmed below Sirius Black's dangling feet as he sat, several stories above them on the balcony of an old castle. Couples dressed in the finest of wizarding dress robes danced, while others chatted merrily under the fairy lights, sipping away at elven wine. At eleven years old, the party below held little interest for Sirius. There had been a distinct increase in the number of social gatherings he had been forced to attend in the last year. The increase had done nothing to change Sirius' opinion of them— they were just as dull as ever. However, his spot perched above the partygoers made the perfect place to drop stink pellets into the robes of those unfortunate enough to stray under him.

"Sirius Black! How dare you—" screeched a voice from behind Sirius, and he scooted quickly away from the ledge, stuffing the rest of his stink pellets in the pocket of his dress robes. In his panic he failed to notice the screech turn to laughter at the panicked expression on his face. "Calm down, punk," the voice chortled. Sirius' cheeks flushed pink as he recognized the voice and stared up into the grinning face of his favorite cousin, Andromeda Black.

Tossing a stink pellet toward his cousin—which she easily dodged, Sirius growled, "That was cruel."

"But funny," came her reply as she curled her legs under her to sit beside him. Sirius thought it took her an absurd amount of time to do so, but blamed it on her height. Andromeda was quite tall for a girl, and willowy.

The two cousins remained in silence for quite a time, tossing stink pellets down amongst the guests. Their faces bore the same aristocratic features, with pale skin and dark hair, the same worry lines between their eyes. No one could deny that either child was quite beautiful. Sirius still very young and bright, and Andromeda flowering into womanhood prettily.

"A lot of parties lately?" Andromeda questioned breaking the silence. Her attendance at school preventing her from appearing the multitude of gatherings Sirius had been forced to bare over the past few months.

Sirius grumbled, tossing his hair out of his eyes, "One a week. Or it feels that way at least." Giving Andromeda a slight smile, he continued, "At least you'll be here for the rest of the summer. I won't have to get into mischief alone now." In the past, Sirius discovered annoying the guests at these gatherings required his parents to take notice of his presence and pretend to scold him in condolence for the guests. Though recently, neither parent had noticed his misbehavior.

Andromeda laughed. "You're much braver than I am. Aunt Walburga scares me something fierce."

With a shrug, Sirius turned his gaze back down to the partygoers. Easily spotting his mother, Walburga Black, amid the crowd, her black hair gleaming in the fairy light, expensive robes draped around her frame so exquisitely they seemed to be part of her. "Mother barely notices I exist. Doesn't matter what sort of mischief I find myself in. She doesn't bat an eye." The sadness in his voice was evident, he craved attention—any at all would do. His parent's social calendars kept them occupied with everything but tending to Sirius and his brother's desire for acknowledgement.

"You excited to start school in September?" she changed the subject, allowing herself to pretend she hadn't heard the longing in his voice. With age, came knowledge. Neglect was far better than the abuse that came from angering one of the elder Blacks. Andromeda hoped Sirius never learned that lesson and the most he ever suffered from her aunt was neglect.

Realizing that she wasn't going to acknowledge his remark, Sirius answered, "I guess." He stared up at his cousin, but she appeared lost in her own thoughts. Even if she wasn't listening, Sirius continued to talk. At least he could pretend she cared, with her sitting that closely. "Father and I went and brought all my things last week. He wanted to have it done before the place was crowded with 'mudbloods and the like.'" He parroted off the last few words, mimicking his father's drawl.

Andromeda tilted her head as she stared at Sirius, concern drawing her dark brows together. "Sirius?" she queried, "Do you know what 'mudblood' means?"

With confusion clearly written across his face he answered, "It someone born without a wizarding parentage." His brows furrowed over his grey eyes as he frowned. "I'm not stupid, Andromeda."

Giving him an eye roll, she teased, "Yes, you are." She raised a hand to brush Sirius' hair from his eyes and he flinched away from her reach, unused to affection. Giving him a small smile, she placed her hand back in her lap. "Sirius, promise me, you won't use that word anymore. Muggleborn—that's what the rest of society uses. That's the word that isn't—wrong." As his eyes clouded with more confusion, Andromeda explained her thoughts. "Listen, this—" she gestured to the crowd below them. "Their ideals and their way of life—That's not all there is out there. When you get to Hogwarts, you're going to learn that the way we are raised isn't—" She kept starting and stopping, looking for the right words. Sirius had never seen her so open, or so conflicted in his life. He clung to every word, as if they were the only honest words he'd ever heard. Perhaps they were. "Just promise me, that you'll remain open minded and decide for yourself. Okay?"

Sirius nodded and whispered softly, "Muggleborn."

July 15th 1971

 _The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_ was elegantly embroidered across the tapestry that hung the far wall of the room Sirius and his younger brother, Regulus, found themselves in on the quite Thursday afternoon. Beneath the words lay the family motto (Torjours Pur) and crest before the golden thread spilled out into a magnificent sprawling tree with each family member connected among the branches. It was Sirius' mother's prized possession: The Black family tree.

Unknowing of the events unfolding that caused their parents absence, Sirius and Regulus entertained themselves throughout their day free of lessons with chess, Gobstones, Exploding Snap, and any other game they could get their hands on. It was a rarity, for the Black family heirs to have so much spare time on their hands and they enjoy it to the fullest extent.

"What do you suppose mother and father are doing?" Regulus asked his elder brother, nudging his knight as it attempt to refuse his request, knowing the play would lead to its demise.

Sirius shrugged. "I'm not really sure I care, Regulus," he responded through a mouthful of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "As long as they are gone we eat candy for dinner and don't have to attend stupid dancing lessons this evening. Let them stay gone!"

Laughing at his brother's enthusiasm, Regulus plucked out a toffee colored bean from the pile on the table and popped it into his mouth. Sirius grinned as his brother made a face which clearly said the bean had been one of Bertie's more disgusting flavors.

Much later in the day, as the sun began to fall beneath the horizon line, the room was turned quite upside down— candy spilled from the table and wrappers scattered about the floor, bits of game pieces were spread out willy-nilly around the place in a fashion most unfitting of the House of Black. The two boys were in a mock duel. Licorice wands pointing at each other, Sirius behind an upturned couch and Regulus taking cover near the bookcase. Each boy smiling at the other with brotherly affection as they threw pretend curses at one another. The game was brought suddenly to an end with a loud crack that made both boys freeze.

The front door slammed with such force the entire house seemed to shake, Sirius and Regulus both jumped fear evident in their eyes at the sound of footsteps in the entrance hall. Walburga Black's infuriated voice echoed through the house and the boys shared panicked looks before their eyes darted to the mess they had created. "Kreature?" Regulus called, bit it was much too late.

The mistress of the House of Black had already arrived in the room in a dramatic swirling of robes, her fury radiating off her in waves. Sirius made to exit the room as his mother whirled passed him without taking notice of his presence and waved for his brother to follow. Regulus nodded and sneaked his way toward the door as well.

"How dare she!" Walburga roared. And the brothers froze, eyes wide watching their mother remove her wand from her sleeve and point it at the tapestry in a rage. Magic sparked around her, crackling in the air as her wand tip flamed up and burned out a name on the family tree. "Running off with a filthy mudblood! A disgrace!" Walburga raged.

Sirius motioned for Regulus to move for the exit again and Walburga caught sight of him. "Sirius!" she screeched. "Did you know about this?" Sirius shook his head in confusion and her glare intensified. The anger in his mother's voice was nothing like Sirius had ever experienced before, and for the first time in his life, he was afraid of her. "Did you _know_ , Sirius?" Her voice wavered as if she had lost her sanity and Sirius glance meaningfully at Regulus, trying to convey the urgent need for Regulus to get out of the room with his eyes. "You two are so _close_!"

Her rage had overtaken her now and Sirius drew her attention completely, giving Regulus a moment to escape. "Who, mother?" he asked timidly.

Magic was still sparking off Sirius' mother in a way Sirius had never witnessed before. Her wand was pointed at him and he was sure that she would end his life in that moment. "Did you know, boy?" she screeched again.

"I don't know what you are talking about, mother," Sirius answered honestly, his voice trembling.

Her eyes flashed dangerously at him. "Don't. Lie. To. Me."

"Mother, truly," he begged. His mind traveling a million different places trying to find an answer and not finding one.

"You mean to tell me, your _dearest_ cousin, didn't tell you that she was going to marry a—" her voice broke in anger and she started to stutter,"—a m-m-mu—"

"A Muggleborn?" Sirius offered. At Andromeda's request, Sirius had made it a habit to repeat the word whenever mudblood was used, to help him remember to use the _right_ word.

Sirius Black spent the majority of his childhood fighting for his mother's attention—to be noticed in any way at all. By accident, he found the answer in doing the right thing.

A resounding smack echoed throughout the room as Walburga's hand collided with Sirius' cheek. The cooper taste of blood filled his mouth and tears stung at his eyes. Despite the pain in his cheek and the fear he felt at his mother rage, he felt the swelling feeling of happiness. Finally, she noticed him. Finally, attention.


	4. A Bit Spoiled

**The Art of Cartography**

Just a bit Spoiled

July 17, 1971

James Potter was decidedly _not_ a morning person. Despite all of his mother's attempts he never would be. And yet, as the sun rose Euphemia Potter knocked cheerily at James' bedroom door with quick little wraps, singing a merry little tune about the how it was time to rise. James _hated_ it. Any eleven-year-old boy would. Any person with ears would. Therefore, he stuffed his head under his pillow (the case printed with broomsticks and Quidditch balls) and grumbled out, "Mum, no! It's too early!"

"The sun is up, darling!" she chimed, barging her way into his room as mothers are wont to do. Euphemia, though older than most mothers, filled the air with youthful spirit. Her red tinted lips brought made her smile unforgettable and her graying curls danced with life. "James, its shopping day! Get up! We've so many things to buy! Hogwarts awaits you!"

Pulling his blankets up tight around his collar and clamping his pillow over his head James gave a muffled response that sounded an awful like, "Do it yourself, you crazy old bat."

Euphemia would never believe her precious gift could say such a thing, so she replied, "Of course, honey, we can look at the beaters bats, if you like." And proceeded to James closet where she began pulling out a variety of clothes trying to decide what would be best for her son to wear. _It shouldn't be cold, but best bring a jumper in case._ She busied herself with these thoughts while James continued to protest quite rudely that it was much too early to be awake on a Saturday.

Suddenly, James Potter found himself ripped from the warmth of his sheets and dangling by his ankles in midair with his father, Fleamont Potter, chuckling heartily at him. James baggy shirt kept falling down around his chin as his vainly tried to pull it down, or up as it were, his hair stood up on ends and he glared angrily at his father. James was rather small for his age and rather scrawny with large hazel eyes that could glare daggers. "Stop giving your mother a hard time, James!" Fleamont laughed. "And for Merlin's sake, do not leave yourself exposed for attack like that! You start school in a fortnight and I refuse to let my good dueling name to go down the drain!"

James flopped down on the bed with a soft thud and made a dash across the room, swiping his mother's wand from her pocket and pointing it at his father. He shouted, "Tarantellegra" and Fleamont began dancing a little jig and clapped with glee. "Oh ho! My boy," he beamed. "I knew you had it in you." The two began a friendly duel of simple jinxes around the bedroom. Fleamont pretending to be affected more often than the spell actually working. Soon all three Potters were laughing and James had forgotten to continue complaining about the earliness of the hour.

About an hour later the Potters were all dressed James hair was flattened neatly to his head despite his many protests that he liked it the way that it was (standing up all over the place) and were off to Diagon Alley. They arrived with a small _pop_ as Fleamont Potter used Side-Along Apparition to transport his son and wife into the busy street.

Diagon Alley was crammed full to the brim with witches and wizards, and the occasional Muggle parent. Fleamont offered his arm to Euphemia, "Shall we?" Euphemia smiled and took his arm before offering her other to James. James rolled his eyes at them.

"Mum, I'm _eleven_ ," he stated irritably. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked toward in any direction away from them. His parents just chortled at him, smiling at his new found independence and followed after him.

It wasn't too long before James was clinging to his mother's arm outside Broomstix, big eyes staring into the window as he begged for a new racing boom. Nimbus Racing Brooms had just released its latest model, the Nimbus 1001 and James was practically drooling over it, along with dozens of others in the shop window. "Mum, please? I could make the Quidditch team _first year_ with that broom. They couldn't turn a _Nimbus 1001_ down!"

"James," his mother chided. "Don't you want to get in on skill and merit? Not just some fancy broom?"

"But Mum!" James pointed at the broom. "Just look at it. It's amazing. So sleek."

Fleamont hugged his wife from behind resting his head on her shoulder. "He does have a point, love." He joined in on James' begging. "It is very sleek." Glancing at James, he winked before adding, "And James does have a lot of talent on the Quidditch field, but it is really tough for anyone to get a spot much less a first year. There is probably some bias rule against it, I haven't heard of a first year on a team in ages. Just think, our James, the first in a century."

With a shake of her head, Euphemia wasn't persuaded. "Flying is such a dangerous thing already. I think you should wait until next year for a racing broom." She patted James' head, releasing some of the stands from their neat positions. "I'm sorry, dear."

James was thoroughly disappointed. His parents rarely told him no. He just had to think of the best approach to get her to change her mind. _Tears_ _ought_ _to_ _do_ _it_ , he thought. "I'm always really careful, though, Mum," he sniffed at his shoes.

Euphemia stared down at her son. It was always such a hard thing to do, telling him no. She hated so much to deny him any happiness. She rubbed his head again, and his hair was freed into its natural wild mess. "Alright, I guess we can at least look at it in person."

"You're the best, Mum!" James leaped up, his face lit into a smile and wrapped his lanky arms around his mother. The broom would be his before the day was up.

And it was true, James Potter was the proud owner of a Nimbus 1001 at the days close, as well as several other things that were not needed on his school supply list. Euphemia and Fleamont just didn't have the heart to say no.

And really, was there anything wrong with that?

 _End note: I know it's a little short and I didn't get it up in time for James' birthday, and I'm really sad about that. But, I'm still sick with the worse spring cold I think I've ever had. Also, I had Easter plans involving my favorite spoiled little boy and a bunch of brightly colored eggs. To the real point of this note then! I'm probably pushing the envelope a bit by saying James could cast spells with his mother's wand, but from my understanding the Ministry only uses the Trace on students and they can only tell which spell was cast and where, not by whom. There's my defense. Please break it to pieces in a review._


	5. New Beginnings

**The Art of Cartography**

New Beginnings

 _September 1, 1971_

Plumes of steam filled the air around Remus as he stood amongst the crowd of students and parents, giving their last goodbyes before the school year began. He was quite pale, with the full moon approaching, nauseated and shaking with exhaustion though the day had really just begun. Hope Lupin smoothed his fly away hair from his eyes as she stooped low to stare into his face.

"Darling," she said softly, "I am going to miss you so." Her eyes filled with tears and she pulled him into an embrace that felt like home.

Remus buried his face into her neck and bit back a sob. "I'm scared," he whispered into the weave of her cardigan and he felt her nod, admitting to her own trepidation. Pulling back and wiping the trail of tears from her eyes, Hope glanced hopelessly at her husband. Lyall kneeled down next to the pair, wrapping his arms around them both. Remus could smell the tobacco on his shirt, confirming that Remus was not the only one who stayed awake the night prior in worry.

The hoarseness in Lyall Lupin's voice, expressed the love for his son more than any words ever could as he held his family close. "This is going to be a new beginning. From this day forward the rest of the world is yours, Remus." He pressed his lips to Remus' temple his trying to preserve every sense of this moment. "Everything you've ever wanted, and we've ever wanted for you, is on the other side of the fear we face today."

A whistle blew somewhere in the distance and Remus allowed himself a sob as his father pulled him closer. "I can do this," he said with confidence he did not feel. "I love you both so much."

Lyall ruffled Remus' hair as he stood and wrapped an arm around his wife's waist. "I have no doubt that you can, son."

* * *

"Mum, please stop." James Potter whined as his mother smoothed down his hair for the umpteenth time since they had arrived on Platform 9 ¾.

Fleamont Potter beamed at his son. "Just let her do as she pleases, James, my boy! You only ever get to say goodbye to your son once before he goes off to Hogwarts. Soon, you'll be graduating and marrying some little sprite of a witch, and be a father—"

James rolled his eyes and tuned the rest of the speech out. He waited patiently for about two more minutes before announcing loudly, "I'm going to miss all the good seats! Can I please _go_ now?"

Euphemia Potter placed her hands on her hips. "Fine," she exhaled in a great, dramatic huff. Before wrapping both her arms tightly around her son's slight shoulders. "Don't get into too much trouble now. No dueling." She mock scolded before letting him go. "Owl me every day and I'll send you cookies."

"Of course, mum," James lied, "every day."

"Only duel if necessary," James' dad corrected, "And owl at least once a week."

James grinned and hugged his father before grabbing his trunk and jogging off toward the Hogwarts Express.

"And give 'em hell, James!" Fleamont called. He then wrapped his wife up in his arms as the both watched their only son board the train. "It's only a few months," he whispered, eyes welling.

* * *

"Hurry, Pete!" Abigail Pettigrew gasped. Out of breath as she tugged on the pudgy arm of Peter, who was trailing behind her as she ran, pushing a trolley loaded with a truck and caged owl through the crowds at King's Cross. "Have mercy," she prayed, "and don't let us miss the train."

Peter stumbled and tripped over his own feet and untied laces, only managing to stay on his feet by sheer will power as his mother dragged him toward Platform 9 ¾. He was quite certain his arm would be ripped from his body if he did fall, judging by his mother's grip on his hand. Several times, he had attempted to tell her to slow down, but he couldn't seem to find the air. Suddenly, Peter realized his mum was running straight toward the barrier ahead and shouted, "Mum, stop!" She did not and Peter tried to brace himself for the impact, shutting his eyes tightly. But it never came.

Their pace slowed and Peter cracked open his eyes to find himself in what could only be described as a completely different world. The Hogwarts Express stood out on the track, steam already billowing from the smoke stack and a high pitch whistle sounded. "I'm so sorry, Peter," his mother panted. "I swear to you: next year I will manage the time better." She tugged at his hand again and he was whisked through the crowds of parents waving at children behind the glass windows of the train. Peter hurried after his mum, keeping pace with her now as she pushed his trolley along toward the open doors of the train.

"Listen Peter," Abigail said, her voice cracking with tears. "You're going to have so much fun and make so many friends. Hogwarts was some of the best times of my life. I'm so proud of you." She stopped abruptly as they reached the doors and pulled him into a tight hug.

Peter hugged her back even more fiercely. "Promise you'll write, every day?" he pleaded.

Abigail nodded. "Of course, twice a day." She gripped him tightly to her, unsure if she could really let him go.

The train gave another whistle and a student peeked his head out of the train, he had a badge pinned to his chest naming him 'Head Boy.' "Sorry, mam," he said with a mild accent, "the train needs to leave." He hopped of the train and loaded up Peter's owl and trunk with a wave of his wand, gesturing for Peter to follow.

"I love you, Pete," Abigail breathed into Peter's hair and clutched at her more tightly. "Japan for Christmas, okay?"

Tears were spilling down Peter's plump cheeks as he pulled away from his mum and sobbed out, "Christmas in Japan." The Head Boy helped Peter up into the train and stood beside him as it began to move, he placed a hand on Peter's shoulder, remembering his first goodbyes to his own mother.

Peter sniffed and let more tears fall down his cheeks as he watched his mum grow smaller and smaller as the distance between them increased.

* * *

Sirius Black held his chin high as he marched down the corridor of the Hogwarts Express, glancing in open compartments looking for an empty place to sit. He didn't travel far before one was made available by a weeping red haired as she whirled out of a compartment and toward the entry doors. With a shrug, he entered the compartment and confirmed its vacant state, an ornate trunk sliding in behind him. The ease of which he was able to lift and sling the trunk into the storage rack, eluded to the fact that it had been charmed to weight much less than it appeared. Coolly, Sirius draped himself across the seat, his sleek black hair the only cushion for his head against the window. Flipping open the pages of Alchemy, Ancient Art and Science, he glared at the words written within, in hopes that no one would disturb him.

Neither his mother or his father had bothered to see him off. Sirius pretended that pain hadn't ached through his chest to see the other children with their parents giving heartfelt goodbyes. He supposed the exceptional breakfast spread out for him when he came downstairs and the exquisitely hand carved trunk, charmed to be light as a feather and carry whatever his heart desired were intended to make up for his parents lack of presence on his last morning home before school. Sirius had hoped, that appearances would require them to at least see him off, but that hadn't been the case. Kreature had been left with a portkey and note to deliver to the eldest Black child when he was set to leave.

Closing his eyes, Sirius willed away the hot tears that pooled behind his lids. He would _not_ cry.

It was at that moment, a similarly sleeked haired boy of about eleven stuck his head into the compartment. "See you've made the right decision and fled the doting parents before a disastrous scene could be played out, as well," the boy said conspiringly, heaving his trunk through the door. Sirius blinked at him, confused, before standing up to help him lift his trunk on the rack. The rules of gentlemanly behavior kicking in before he realized it.

"Yeah," Sirius muttered and returned to his seat.

The boy sat across from him, wildly running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to free it to its natural state. As the stands began to stand and kink every which way on the boy's head, Sirius tilted his chin toward him and said, "You sure you want to do that?"

"Definitely!" the boy cheered. "My Dad is the creator of Sleekeazy. I'm constantly being doused with the stuff. I can't stand it!" Sirius bit back a smile. "I'm James, by the way."

"Sirius," was the simple reply.

James grinned widely and stopped ruffling his hair. "Whatcha reading?" he queried, glancing toward the book Sirius had set aside to assist in the lifting of James' trunk.

"Just something my mother sent me with," Sirius answered curtly.

James grimaced. "Sounds awful." He hopped up onto the seat and opened his trunk riffling around. "Down for a round of Exploding Snap?" he asked, his messy head peeking out of the trunk.

Sirius allowed himself a real grin, feeling happy for the first time that day. His parents may not like him, but James seemed to. "Sure."

The boys completed half a round before the train rumbled off, the students passing by the compartment leaving the two rowdy boys alone as they yipped and crowed throughout the game. A short time after the train began moving the red haired girl returned, her eyes still gleaming with tears. James smiled up at her and she hiccupped an 'excuse me' before sitting near the window. James and Sirius exchanged confused grins before continuing with their game.

Again the compartment door open and another sniffling student appeared, but at least this one seemed to be attempting to hide it. "Sorry," he mumbled, wiping away at his round cheeks trying to rid them of tears. "All the others are full."

James grinned and announced brightly, "This is the place to dry your tears, my friend!" He glanced back at the girl and doubled back. "Well, not really. We haven't done a thing to cheer her, but the more the merrier for Exploding Snap!"

The boy smiled and tugged his trunk inside. "Thanks." Sirius stood to help the boy with his trunk and James barked with laughter at the round boy as his raised his arms above his head. His pants had slipped down slightly, revealing the tops of his underwear, which showed the name 'Petey' stitched in.

"Petey, eh?" James chortled and Peter flushed pink.

Peter tried to smile and laugh as well. "Peter, actually. My Gran kind of does that." He flushed deeper red. "To all my clothes.

Sirius cracked a smile and James laughed even louder. It was an infectious laugh and Peter and Sirius soon found themselves laughing heartily along with him.

The three failed to take notice as a fourth boy entered the compartment and sat across from the girl staring out the window and ignoring the others. None of them seemed to take notice of the other until the word 'Slytherin' left the new boy's lips.

"Slytherin?" James sounded appalled. "Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" He asked Sirius. When Sirius didn't smile in response, James deflated a little.

"My whole family have been in Slytherin," Sirius answered. His heart gave a clench of pain at the thought of his family. And maybe at the thought of losing the easily attained friendship he had received from James so far.

"Blimey," said James, "and I thought you seemed all right!"

Sirius grinned. The threat of James unfriending him seemed easily avoidable suddenly. "Maybe I'll break the tradition. Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?"

James lifted an invisible sword. "'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!' Like my dad." The boy who brought up Slytherin made a small, withering noise and James turned on him. His eyes flashing excitedly at the challenge. "Got a problem with that?"

"No," said the boy, sneering in a way that clearly stated the contrary. "If you'd rather be brawny than brainy—"

"Where are you hoping to go, seeing as you are neither?" Sirius interjected and was rewarded as James roared with laughter.

The red haired girl stood up, glaring at James and Sirius with distain. "Come on, Severus, let's find another compartment."

James and Sirius both cooed in an imitation of her voice as James made every effort to trip Severus as he followed her from the compartment.

Very much afraid of being left out, Peter stood up to slam the compartment door, calling out, "See ya, Snivellus!" as he did so.

Sirius and James bother erupted into laughter and Peter quickly joined them.

"Sniv-Sniv-Snivellus!" James hooted. "I never would have thought of that."

Peter grinned ear to ear and would never admit that he thought that was the boy's name.

 _End note: Next up, Hogwarts! Please review, it makes me smile._


	6. Waxing Gibbous

September 1, 1971

 _Waxing Gibbous_

The bile rose up, burning like hot, sharp knives in Remus Lupin's throat as he stumbled and shoved his way through the crowd of students disembarking the Hogwarts Express. The platform was small and dark and hundreds of students were pressing out of the train and into each other as Remus raised a pale shaking hand to swipe his fringe out of his eyes. He wasn't sure he would make it off the platform without vomiting. Suddenly, a large warm hand, the size of dustbin lids found his shoulder. "All right there, Remus?" a booming voice sounded a distance above Remus' ear.

He looked up. And up. It appeared that the man's body would never end and Remus would never see his face, when finally, beetle black eyes squinted down at him from behind matted wiry beard and hair. Words failed him completely. "Dumbledore asked me to keep an eye out for ye. Afraid ye might be feeling a bit down with—" The man stalled for words, scrunching up his face. "—count o' the crowd and all." With a quick smile he raised his brows and gestured for Remus to move forward, before booming out. "Firs'- years! Firs'- years, over here!" and raising a lantern to show the way.

Following closely behind the oversized man, Remus stumbled up a dark little path, the other first-years snuggling in close behind. The man glanced down at Remus. "Rubeus Hagrid. But ye can call me Hagrid. I'm the Keeper of Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts." Remus gave a quick nod and tried to swallow down the bile again rising in his throat. Hagrid turned his voice to the stumbling students behind him. "Mind yer step, now! Firs'-years, follow me." The path darkened even further and Remus tried to make out the what ran alongside the edges of it, settling on a dense packing of trees. "Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a see," Hagrid called out, and Remus focused his attention ahead.

They rounded a bend and a collected wave of awe rang out amongst the first-years. A great black lake spilled out before them, leading up to a high mountaintop on the other side. Perched atop was the vast castle Remus had stared at hundreds of times wishing with all his soul he'd one day get to see. The turrets and towers were filled with windows that sparkled back the starry skies above.

Remus promptly vomited.

* * *

The boy at the front of the line vomited, a green sickly color that made Peter Pettigrew very relieved he hadn't nervously eaten _all_ of the snacks the other boys in his compartment offered him along with the sweets he'd brought from home. Especially considering in front of the boy being sick stood a fleet of little boats floating atop a very dark lake. Peter inhaled slowly and closed his eyes. This was going to be bad.

"No more'n four to a boat!" bellowed out the giant man in the lead, after helping the now extremely pecky boy into a boat to be shared with the man. Peter suddenly felt even more ill than he had prior. This would be just like picking teams at muggle school—no one would want him and this time he didn't even have the hope of the teacher helping him out, as there was already someone more pathetic than he.

He hesitated. The other students scurrying toward boats quickly, each forming little four student groups as if they all had some sort of telekinetic power that Peter had been born without.

"Pettigrew!" the specked boy from the train called out and Peter jumped. "Come on, you're with us!"

A warmth spread throughout Peter that he had never felt before. Friendship. Maybe he had made a friend.

* * *

Sirius Black glared at messy-haired boy to his right. "What'd you invite him for?" It was a gut response. It was obvious from the time the compartment door slammed, Pettigrew was a one wit wonder. James and Sirius outmatched him in every way. Intelligence. Money. Family. It just didn't make sense that James continue to build a friendship with someone so blatantly below them.

Running a hand up into his hair, ruffling it even further, James scoffed. "Because we don't want—" his eyes cut across to the crying redhead and her sniveling companion making their way toward the boats "— _that_ in with us." James pretended to gag and Sirius barked out a laugh.

"Thanks so much," Peter panted hauling a leg over into the boat and James rocked it. Peter stumbled into the water his left leg drenched.

Biting back a laugh, Sirius playfully slapped James on the should. "Watch it, James!" James was red faced trying to feign innocence. Peter stared at the two his heart sinking. They were just making fun of him. And then, James reached out a hand and tugged Peter into the boat. Peter breathed a laugh of relief. It sparked and the laughter boiled over, spilling out of James' mouth until it caught fire, the three boys were soon howling with it.

* * *

The sternest face James had ever saw greeted him and the other first-years as the door to the castle swung open. She nodded a brisk, _"thank you, Hagrid,"_ before dismissing the man completely pulling the door to the castle wide. Admitting his mother was right being a very hard thing for James to do it took him a moment to do so. She was exactly right; the castle was—awe-inspiring. The Entrance Hall appeared to go on forever, with ceiling heights one couldn't quite make out and a marble staircase that shifted above them. Preventing James from further perfecting his gapping face impression the stern-faced woman guided them into a small room off the hall.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said the woman. Her eyes peering out amongst the students in a way that made James feel as though she were assessing their abilities for rule-breaking. "The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you will be allowed to take your seats in the Great Hall, you must be sorted into your houses. The sorting is a time honored ceremony within the Hogwarts castle. It is important to you because while you are here, your house will be like your family. You will attend classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitories, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin, each with a noble history of its own. While you are at Hogwarts, any of your triumphs will result in being awarded points to your house, and any rule breaking—" the Professor's eyes seemed to linger on James at these words "—will end in losing house points. The house with the most points at the end of term will be awarded the House Cup. I am sure you will all do your best to be an asset to your house." James was positive her eyes did not linger on him at the end of her speech and instead rested on the pale boy who had been sick by the boats.

James glanced at Sirius, who appeared rather stern himself. "Wotcher, Sirius."

"I'm going to do it, James." Sirius told him tonelessly. "I'm _asking_ for Gryffindor."

A bright smile spread across James' face. "Well, you go first. I'll ask for Slytherin, if the dumb hat doesn't listen to you." Sirius beamed.

* * *

Sirius stared upward at the ceiling as they entered the Great Hall. His elder cousin Andromeda had told him multiple times to make sure he wasn't too busy being pompous to appreciate the magic that had been used to turn it into the night's sky. Mapping out the constellations as the line of nervous first-years made their way across the Hall gave him an air of cool the others could only hope for. It wasn't until James nudged his shoulder that Sirius felt a twang of anxiety at all the eyes staring at him.

"This is so cool!" James whispered. Or said less loudly than normal. Sirius wasn't sure James knew _how_ to do something as quiet as whispering. Sirius nodded in agreement.

The hushed voices of the students eyeing the first-years halted as a worn hat and a three-legged stool was brought out. Everyone stared at it. Sirius could immediately tell the students with the magical backgrounds to those without. The red-haired girl from the train looked absolutely baffled. A dusty cough sounded out of the brim of the hat before and the girl jumped.

" _Oh, though I am old and shabby,  
and to you, I may seem gabby,  
I'll have you know,  
There is no other hat, like me."_

The hat couldn't hold Sirius' attention for longer than its introduction. Poetry and rhyming had never been his thing. He gazed passed the hat and up at the high table where the professors sat. He felt his heart bang against his ribs as he found himself staring into clear blue eyes behind half-moon glasses. _Albus_ _Dumbledore_ , the headmaster. The circles in which Sirius' family associated despised him and Sirius trained response was to be wary. But the longer he stared, the more at ease he felt. There was a kindness in those blue eyes Sirius wasn't sure he had ever seen before.

"Black, Sirius," Professor McGonagall called out and Sirius jumped. He thought he saw the corners of the headmaster's lips twitch upward but couldn't be sure as his feet propelled him forward.

The hat flopped down around Sirius' ears, obscuring his view of the hall and the students staring at him. Contemplating all of the older students here that he found himself acquainted with and the snide looks assuredly cast his way, Sirius discovered the blindness comforting rather than disconcerting. _I want to be in Gryffindor,_ he thought boldly. The moments ticked by and nothing happened. Positive that something should have happened by now, Sirius' palms began to dampen in nervousness. What if asking meant the hat wouldn't choose a house and turn him out of the school completely for being so insolent? Panic settled in and Sirius raised his hands to remove the hat.

" _Not to pleasant to be ignored, now is it,"_ the hat chuckled coolly in Sirius' ear.

" _Sorry,"_ Sirius thought pathetically and the hat laughed.

" _This will be fun,"_ the hat continued to chuckle before shouting out to the hall, "Gryffindor!"

* * *

Remus knew nerves and anxiety were the things that should have been filling his mind as the names being called neared his own. However, his stomach was turning, his head throbbed—as if his brain were fighting to escape his skull, beating up against the bone mercilessly. He pulled at his hair as tears welled in his eyes. Stumbling slightly, he bumped into the person next to him.

"Alright, mate?" asked the thin boy beside him.

With a forced nod that made the world spin, Remus smiled. It was a wobbly smile. The kind of smile a hapless drunk gives before collapsing in his own vomit. The boy did not look convinced but returned to staring ahead.

"Lupin, Remus," was called and Remus tried to stand up straight with pride. Like his dad would have wanted.

His gate was slow, as he slipped passed the other students, squinting against the flickering light of the candles lighting the room. The unsteady glow of light making his head spin further causing dancing sparkles of color before his eyes. A gasp of relief fled Remus' lips as he reached the stool. It was as if he ran a marathon to get there.

The darkness that consumed his sight as the hat fell over Remus' eyes was the first pleasant thing he experienced since leaving the little boats on the lake. He sat in the perfectly black silence and suddenly wished for home.

" _Interesting. Very curious, you are."_ The words tumbled into Remus' mind from nowhere. _"Can't say I have ever sorted someone like you before."_

Unable to bite back his thoughts, Remus angrily snapped, _"Despite my illness, I've made it here. So please refrain from patronizing me further. I could have waiting until after the moon, had I wanted to allow it to get the best of me. Sort me and be done with it."_

The hat _giggled_. " _Silly boy,"_ it retorted. " _As if I was speaking of your affliction."_ Before Remus could respond, the hat shouted and Remus' ears rang with the sound.

Dizziness almost over took him as the brightness of the room entered Remus' eyes as the hat was removed. He hadn't even heard what the hat had screamed as pain pierced through his skull and he blinked about the room. Blinking back the pain, Remus forced himself to focus on the loudest table and move his feet that direction. Red and gold.

* * *

Peter was trying desperately not to cling to James' shirt sleeve, as he had been asked and the _told_ to stop several times already. But really, he had never been so nervous in his life. Crowds didn't really bother him, but crowds _staring_ _at him_ were an entirely different thing all together. And Pettigrew was drawing nearer every second.

"Come on, Peter. _Let go._ " James demanded, extracting his sleeve from Peter's sweaty grasp. "Get. A. _Grip._ "

Stuffing his hands in his pockets in another vain attempt to stand alone, Peter glanced down at his feet. Well, there went his only friend.

"Pettigrew, Peter," came far too quickly and Peter tripped over his laces as he made his way through the crowd. Several people snickered and Peter blinked back tears.

Unfortunately for Peter, the hat did not fall passed his ears. Instead it sat upon them, as they stuck out a bit farther than most and he was forced to stare out into the crowd.

Peter sat. The hat thought.

One minute passed by.

And another.

Peter sat. The hat thought.

At the three-minute mark, the hat said, " _Tricky."_

Another minute.

" _Any suggestions?"_ the hat asked.

Peter's cheeks reddened, " _Well, I might have made a friend who is in Gryffindor?"_

The hat sighed. " _Gryffindor!_ "

* * *

James Potter didn't think he would regret the loss of Peter Pettigrew clinging to his arm, but he found himself suddenly a ball of nerves without the distraction. Luckily, he only had to sit through Peter absurdly long sorting and one quick shout for Hufflepuff before his own name was called.

Determined to see out in to the crowd, James puffed up his hair and tried to fill his head with air. It didn't work, but it didn't matter. The hat only sat on his head for a mere five seconds before shouting out, "Gryffindor!"

James leaped from the hat after the announcement and ran across the hall toward Sirius. "Thank the stars! I was scared my vow earlier was going to land me in Slytherin!" He slid into the seat next to Sirius as the other boy let out a bark of laughter.

"Mr. Potter," a voice rang out and James looked up. "The hat, please?"

James flushed and offered up the hat to the professor.

* * *

Author's note: I'm so sorry about the delay in updates. I don't have an excuse. I'm still sorry though. Anyways, hope you enjoyed.


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